


Will Awakened

by taichara



Category: Gundam 00, Gundam 00 & Anno Domini Gundam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 18:58:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8726425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taichara/pseuds/taichara
Summary: Setsuna returns.





	

**Author's Note:**

> _prompt:_ "Thy Kingdom Come"

What was that?

Was someone there?

He couldn't tell.

Couldn't say if someone was _there_ , beside him, next to this inert meat that was his body. 

There was just _too much_.

Too much everything -- no, every _one_ \-- and it pushed him down, drowned him, so much riptide of emotion that he drifted away forever, no thought, no responding, nothing. 

Better to let it wash over him. Let it pass, let it pass.

What did he know about other people, other lives?

What was understanding when he understood so little of himself? 

What was empathy without connection? 

It was too much. Too much, and he was lost.

And yet ...

Something changed. Was changing. He felt it, _knew_ it.

There was so much pain. 

That, _that_ he understood. Pain, loss; self-inflicted, caused by others. His existence was defined by pain.

And pain had cost them, cost him, someone who had tried to understand.

Memory bubbled up from the drifting darkness. Could he have changed what happened, if he'd known then? Would he have? Would it have been right, righteous, justified?

Thought followed memory, unwilling.

If he did nothing, stayed drifting ... then what? What would happen? What _had_ happened? 

Was it right, now, to drift, passively, a sponge on the spirits of others?

Instinct. 

He needed to _act_.

Just a trickle, a dove's-wing brush of his awareness, cast out to find --

\-- a locus of pain, of fear and worry and anxiety and so many other inadequate words so close that all that he was erupted in blood-black sparks of sympathetic agony.

What?

Who ...?

_Feldt._

He _knew_. He knew and every fibre of his being fought fugue and endless sleep with single-minded intensity, clawing towards the living breathing world with animal ferocity that screamed in his head --

His eyes snapped open.

The world rushed in, solid, physical, _real_ , mingling with the currents of awareness that still did not relent as he gasped once, trying to lunge upright, nearly toppling. Something was _wrong_ , why could he not ...

Warm arms enveloped him. 

Feldt. 

She cradled him close. He couldn't make out what she said -- was it her voice, or his ears, that failed? -- but words weren't needed. 

It was Feldt who had waited, had sat vigil over him, had hoped and wished and prayed while he lay still and silent. 

Now tears, hot as fire, fell against his face, traced the hollow of his cheek.

And he understood.


End file.
